The Princess sat at the kitchen table breezing through her first kindergarten homework assignment.
“Whatcha doing, Mommy?” she questioned only half monitoring her work.
“I’m making your scarf for your hair.” Dull scissors were barely making the cuts through the ripped nylons.
“Why are you cutting the legs off?”
“I don’t want them to choke you while you sleep,” I said, opting for the paring knife to finish the job. “This part right here,” I continued, pointing to the control top and seat, “is the part that will go on your head to keep your hair neat for tomorrow.”
“Why do I need my hair neat tomorrow?”
“Do you want to look crazy at school?” I giggled, hoping that she would too, but instead, she looked at me hard, dropping her pencil on the table.
“I do not want my braids sticking up like this.” She began drawing snake-like outgrowths in the air with her index fingers. “People will laugh at me. Please don’t make my hair all crazy.”
“What are you talking about, Princess? Has someone been laughing at your hair?”
“No, Mommy. Just don’t make it crazy, okay?”
“Okay, but I don’t even have to comb your hair tonight. You did a good job keeping your hair neat at school today.”
“Yes, I did, but Mommy?”
“How come your hair is all crazy?”
“I think it’s time for you to finish your homework and go to bed.”